


A Second Daughter for a Second Son

by GothamSiren



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1262773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothamSiren/pseuds/GothamSiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cat weds Brandon before he rides to King's Landing to rescue Lyanna. And so it is Lysa, and not her sister, that Ned must marry to secure Hoster Tully's forces.</p><p>In other words: Young Lysa (still a shy, quiet dreamer) gets a shot at happiness. Also includes a good healthy dose of Lysa/Cat sisterly love because I can't get enough of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Second Daughter for a Second Son

When word reaches Riverrun that Aerys has killed both Brandon and Rickard Stark, Catelyn is inconsolable. She bars her door and refuses entry to all, crying into her pillows in an attempt to smother the sound of her sobs. 

But Lysa hears them nonetheless. 

She's slumped against the door outside Cat's chambers and has been so all night, stepping away from her post only when necessary to relieve herself. "I'm here," she'd said, when Cat first heard the news and locked herself inside. "I'm right here, Cat. And _I_ won't leave you. I promise." 

Lysa Tully takes her promises very seriously and so there she remains, refusing even food and drink from the ladies maids ( _If Cat's not eating, then neither am I_ ). Her father comes when dawn is just beginning to break and Lysa stiffens at his approach, balling her hands into fists, clenching them so tightly that her fingernails break the skin of her palm. 

He implores Cat to open the door, to eat, to allow the maids to attend her. But his pleas are met with only silence. After a while, Hoster Tully sighs, defeated, and looks down at his youngest daughter. Lysa can feel his gaze weighing heavily upon her, but stares resolutely ahead, refusing to acknowledge his presence. 

"Lysa," he mumbles, hand hovering as if he may lay it atop her auburn hair.

 She pulls further away from him, wraps her arms protectively around her midsection (though it is too late for their protection to do any good and Lysa will never forgive her father for that). In the end, Hoster leaves his daughters to their mournful devices. Lysa does not know if she is grateful for the reprieve or angry he does not try harder to win her forgiveness and affection.

But regardless, she is most certainly not surprised. Men always seem to be leaving her.

Muffled wails begin to echo from inside Catelyn's rooms once more and Lysa's heart aches for her elder sister. Her gaze wanders down the corridors, looking for signs of others who may approach to attempt and coax the recently widowed Catelyn Stark from her rooms. But the halls are empty and dark, the rising sun just barely peeking over the horizon. 

Lysa leans her forehead against the door, knocking gently and calling Cat's name. "I know how it feels," she whispers, in the language only the two of them share. "To lose someone you love. It leaves a hole inside you, one you worry can never be filled again." Lysa swallows sharply, tears springing to her eyes. "And you wonder if maybe you'd have been better off dying with them than living without them."

Lysa can no longer hear her sister's sobs, but she does hear her footsteps, edging ever closer to the door. Lysa sucks in a breath and scrambles up, pushing her palm against the door, imagining Cat doing much the same on the other side. _Please open up. We need each other, Cat. We fish swim stronger in schools._

"Petyr got a child on me," Lysa continues, still using their secret code. "That's why father sent him away. But then he tricked me, Cat. Father gave me tea, told me it would ease my pains, but the bitter drink only made them worse. It was moon tea, Cat. He murdered my child with tansy and mint and wormwood. The babe bled from my belly, but it wasn't me. I didn't know. I only drank what Father gave me. I trusted him…"

The door opens and there stands Cat, with eyes red as her matted hair, and the burden of widowhood adding a sorrowful slump to her shoulders. But even through her own pain, Cat reaches for her sister, pulls her inside her chambers and bars the door once more.

The Tully sisters cling tightly to each other, talking over one another in their rush to offer comfort.

"Oh, Cat. Brandon was so good, so strong, so brave and it's not fair. Not fair at all --"

"Gods, Lysa. I didn't know. How could he -- I'm sorry, sweetling. I'm so very sorry."

Cat rubs soothing circles into the small of her sister's back and Lysa combs her fingers through Cat's auburn hair, gently removing the tangles and knots. They crawl into Cat's bed, throw the covers over their heads, and shut out the world. Cat begins to sing a tune, one their mother would sing on stormy nights to bring peace to her frightened girls, but her voice cracks halfway through as tears threaten to overtake her once more. Lysa finds her sister's hand in the darkness and squeezes it tightly, finishing the song for her. Cat squeezes back when Lysa's voice at last fades to silence.

And for the first time since her father sent Petyr away and washed the babe from her belly, Lysa Tully doesn't feel quite so alone.

 

* * *

 

Lysa prays to the Seven for peace, so of course it is war that comes. 

It is Lysa's marriage that cements the alliance between Houses Tully, Stark, and Arryn. Hoster intends to offer Lysa's hand to Jon. _He must think that a decrepit husband is the best a damaged girl such as myself can aspire to_ , Lysa thinks, even though she knows it is unkind. 

Jon Arryn is noble and high-born and likely to be made Hand of the King when Robert wins this war. But all Lysa can think of is how happy her sister was, however briefly, with handsome and charming Brandon Stark. Does she not deserve the same chance at happiness?

Lysa wails to Cat about their father's unfair intentions ( _has he not made me suffer enough?_ ), but she never expects Cat to do anything about it. What power do women have in this world, after all?

Cat does intervene though, convincing their father to at least make the offer to Lord Stark. Which is how Lysa finds herself sitting on the riverbank with the new Warden of the North, her Uncle Brynden off in the distance, close enough to chaperone, but far enough that they have a goodly amount of privacy.

Eddard Stark is attractive, but not nearly so breathtaking as Brandon had been. His face is longer, expression solemn; but in a way, it serves to endear him more to her. Lysa knows what it is like, after all, to be second best.

She steels herself for an interrogation -- doubtlessly he'll want to know he can be sure of her fidelity, fertility, and all the other qualities that men require of their wives. Lysa is well-prepared. She spent hours in front of her looking-glass, rehearsing the words she will say to convince Lord Stark that she'd not fail him in her duties. She will be a Tully through and through -- _Family, duty, honor_.

"Is this match agreeable with you, my lady? My brother and your sister had years to get to know each other through visits and correspondence. You and I would not have that luxury."

"War is not a time for luxuries," she says on reflex.

Lord Stark studies her from behind unreadable grey eyes. "Wise words."

Lysa looks away, hiding her flushed face behind a curtain of hair. In truth, the words belong to her uncle, the Blackfish. But Lysa would rather Lord Stark think her clever than a parrot and so she lets him assume whatever he'd like.

"But my question remains unanswered, my lady."

Lysa swallows her fear and summons her courage, turning to face Lord Stark despite the fact that her hands tremble. "I would consider myself very fortunate and pleased if you were to agree to the match, Lord Stark. I know my father's informed you of my past… indiscretion."

It hurts, to think of Petyr that way (to think of him at all, really). It hurts even more to think of their lost babe in such a manner. But Cat is right -- if she is to find any sort of happiness in this world, she must move on. She must forget Petyr Baelish and the life with him that will never be. 'He's not worthy of you anyway,' she remembers Cat cooing in her ear, as she ran their mother's brush through her hair. 'If he wasn't even willing to fight for you.' Lysa doesn't know if she agrees with Cat, but she can't deny that, despite the dozens of letters she's sent to him, she has never received a single one in return.

"But I swear to you," Lysa tells Lord Stark, begging him with deep blue eyes to believe the truth in her words, "if you take me as your wife, I will be ever loyal, loving, and dutiful. I will give you as many children as you desire. I will--"

"My lady," he interrupts her bargaining, laying a gentle hand atop her trembling ones. "You misunderstand. I have already agreed to the match. It was only your consent I required."

It takes Lysa a moment to understand. _He is offering me a choice_. She smiles then, like she hasn't done since the moon tea left the taste of bitterness and betrayal in her mouth.

"You have it, Lord Stark."

He returns her smile with a small one of his own, though it is tinged with sadness. "Ned. If we are to be married, then you should call me Ned."

  

* * *

 

Lysa does not come to their bedding a maid, but she feels as nervous as one. Cat did not bother to offer her advice, having assumed she'd learned all she needed at Petyr's hands. Lysa was too embarrassed to tell her sister that all she could remember from her couplings with Petyr was a sense of discomfort and pain and the heartbreak at hearing him murmur her sister's name when he spilled inside her.

When Lord Eddard ( _Ned_ , she corrects herself) lays her down on the bed and kisses her, Lysa is disappointed for a moment that he does not taste of mint. _At least he does not taste sour with wine_ , she thinks. She recalled the coupling being worse when Petyr was drunk. But then she quickly pushes such thoughts away.

 _Ned is your husband now, not Petyr. You must not think of him anymore_.

Lysa wills her mind to clear itself of the past and instead focus on the present. She lies perfectly still, waiting for her husband to remove her small clothes and thrust himself inside. It wasn't the most pleasant of sensations, but such was a woman's duty, to allow her husband to --

Lysa gasps. Ned does not reached for her small clothes, choosing instead to cup her breasts. Her nipples pebble at the touch of his hands (cold, like the land he came from), but warmth builds between them as he strokes and squeezes, gently. Lysa opens her eyes and is surprised to find Ned staring down at her in awe. 

"You're beautiful," he whispers, as his hands continue to knead at her breasts.

"So are you," she blurts, and then blushes. _What a stupid thing to say. Men don't like to be called beautiful._

 But Ned doesn't seem to mind. He brushes his lips against hers in a tentative kiss, sweet and gentle and innocent. But with his hands still working at her breasts, building a slow but sweet burning fire in her belly, Lysa does not want tentative or innocent. She wants more.

She raises one hand and sinks it in his hair, tugging him closer. Her other she lets skim over his back, roaming freely. Ned moans against her lips and Lysa marvels at how different it is, coupling with a man face to face, instead of belly down on the bed, your face buried in a pillow. 

She flicks her tongue against his lips and Ned moans again, deepening the kiss and allowing his hands to abandon her breasts. She's disappointed for a moment, but then his hands are clutching at her ass, pulling her groin tightly against his own. Lysa groans and feels a familiar ache gathering in her nether regions. But this time, it's accompanied by an unfamiliar wetness.

As Ned grinds his mouth and groin against her, Lysa follows his lead, her tongue flicking and teeth nipping. Her legs wrap around him and pulse against him. This frees his hands, which return to her breasts, kneading and squeezing and driving her to a delicious madness with the way they tease. Lysa decides right then and there that her husband has the best hands in all seven kingdoms.

But though all of this feels so very good, the ache in her groin continues to grow and (as usual) Lysa has no idea how to push it over the edge. "Please, Ned," she begs against his mouth. "I need, I need…" She doesn't quite know what she needs and it frustrates her beyond belief.

Ned lowers a hand to her smallclothes and Lysa almost cries out in disappointment. She was so close to something wonderful and now it will all be over. He'll spend himself inside her and that'll be the end of it. Lysa tries to console herself -- after all, this coupling has been much better than her previous ones and maybe with more time they will --

Ned's hand removes her smallclothes and then comes to rub against her slick folds, and she forgets to breathe. His kisses recede, as if knowing she needs the space, and Ned's lips move against her neck now, licking and blowing. But Lysa can't think to reciprocate in any fashion, all she can do is hold on tightly to her husband as his fingers find a place she'd never knew existed, one that sends her body shuddering. 

The feeling is amplified when he slips a finger inside her woman's place. As the two work in tandem, Lysa bucks her hips against his hand, so close to the edge, so very close. 

"That's it, sweet girl," Ned whispers against her ear as he adds another finger. 

"Ned," she pants breathlessly, losing all propriety and speaking on instinct as he works her body like a harp. "Ned. I want you inside of me." _I want your seed, I want your babe, I want all of you._ " _Please_ , Ned."

Her husband obeys. He slips his fingers out of her, devoting them all to that nub of pleasure, and sinks his cock into her warmth. Lysa gasps. The feeling is so different from before. There is no feeling of tearing or pain. Only a slight discomfort that quickly abates as Ned's hand and lips drive it away and replace it with pleasure.

Ned keeps himself raised off of her with one hand, as if he's afraid to hurt her. _But I am stronger than I look_. Lysa rocks her hips against him and it causes him to sink deeper into her cunt. Ned moans and it reverberates throughout her chambers. "More," she pleads. _I'm so close_. " _More_."

Ned wraps his free arm around her back and lifts her up, close as they can be. It puts her at an angle and causes his cock to brush a different part of her, a spot that has her walls pulsing more tightly around him. "Yes. _Yes_ ," she breathes. _This is it._

"Lysa," he pants, kissing her mouth, her neck, her ear. " _Lysa_."

It's her name on his lips ( _her_ name and none other) that sends her over the edge. She screams as ecstasy overtakes her. Lysa rides the wave, can feel her walls clenching around Ned's cock, and it seems her pleasure brings his own. Ned growls in her ear and then she feels him release his seed inside of her.

When it is over, Ned flops down beside her, and together they catch their breath. Eventually he turns to face her and Lysa flashes him a joyous smile.

"My lady," he begins, but she holds up a hand.

"Lysa. Call me Lysa." _And never anything else_.

He smiles back at her and Lysa considers it a personal triumph that this smile is not tinged with sadness. "Lysa. That was… I… thank you."

He seems flustered and embarrassed with his choice of words, but Lysa thinks no man has ever been so good or so dear. She decides he must spill inside her at least twice more tonight, and as many times as she can manage to entice him before he leaves for war. When he returns, she will present him with a babe, one with dark hair and Stark grey eyes. And he'll be so overjoyed to see them that he'll pick them both up, spin them round in circles, and declare her the fairest lady to ever live. Their story will be just like the songs. Only far, far better.

But Lysa does not tell her husband any of this. Instead, she curls her body into his and presses a kiss into his shoulder where her face rests. Ned's solemn face relaxes even further and he slips his arm around her. Lysa's hands draw patterns on his hardened stomach, so softly and gently that her husband's eyes begin to close. But then Lysa's hands wander lower and those grey eyes snap open and fill with heat. The hand that rests at her back slowly mimics her patterns even as it draws ever closer to her breast.

As she planned, Lysa does get her husband to spend inside of her twice more before they finally succumb to sleep. Both times it is Ned calling out her name during climax that brings her to her own.

In the fortnight that follows, as Father calls his bannermen and the Riverlands prepare for war, Lysa spends every waking moment she can with Ned. When he is not training with his men in the practice yard or meeting in council with her Father, Uncle, and Lord Arryn, she is never far from his side. It is awkward at first, more awkward than Lysa had expected after a night of such passion. But she lacks the conversational finesse of her elder sister and her husband has none of his elder brother's easy-going charm. 

Learning Ned will not be an easy task, Lysa realizes. But she doesn't mind the challenge. As Lord Hoster's second, less attractive daughter (pretty, but not stunningly beautiful, not like Cat), she's become quite used to challenges. On days when Ned is especially quiet, Lysa worries he regrets his choice of wife. She wonders if he ever wishes he'd broken with propriety and taken Cat as his bride, despite the fact that tradition dictated she wear her mourning clothes for at least a year.

The only time Lysa does not worry about her husband's contentment with their match is in their bed chambers. Ned says such lovely things to her ( _beautiful girl, sweet girl, perfect girl_ ), such deliciously _filthy_ things to her ( _Do you like that, Lysa? Do you like my fingers buried in your cunt?)_ that Lysa knows in this matter, at least, she succeeds in pleasing him. Nearly so much as he pleases her.

The nights chase away her fears. But when daylight breaks and Ned offers her courtesies but little affection in front of the host of Riverrun, Lysa's worries come rushing back. It is not until a fortnight has passed and the armies prepare to march further south that Lysa comes to understand the truth.

"Are you happy, my lady?"

She stares at Ned blankly for a moment, confused. _How could he possibly ask such a question?_

Her husband looks away from her as he continues. "I know I am likely not what you expected in a husband." _No,_ Lysa thinks, _I expected Jon Arryn._

But then she catches his gaze once more and the look in his eyes is all too familiar to her. Lysa raises her hand to cup his cheek and leans forward, kissing him chastely, aware of the audience of soldiers nearby, but desperately needing to chase that look in his eyes away. 

"No," she says, clasping their hands together. "You're much better." 

Lysa is well pleased with herself when the insecurity fades from her husband's eyes. He brings her hand to his lips for a kiss and though he does not smile, Lysa thinks she spies a touch of joy hidden in those solemn features. _Maybe he doesn't regret choosing me at all_ , she dares hope. _Maybe he realizes that only a second daughter can understand a second son_.

When Ned rides off for war, with Uncle Brynden at his side and a host of Tully and Stark bannermen at his back, Lysa does not worry for his safety. Her uncle is the fiercest warrior in all of Westeros. He will bring her husband back to her, safe and sound. 

She goes to Riverrun's sept, where she kneels before the Mother and begs for a son, more devout in her prayers than she ever has been before.

So, of course, her belly remains empty. 

And when her husband finally returns, it is he who brings home a son.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any grammatical errors/spelling mistakes. Found this in an old fic bin and figured I might as well post. There's a second part, with a less bitter, more sweet ending for Lysa/Ned that I'll clean up and share if anyone's interested. 
> 
> I live for comments and reader interaction, so please take a moment and drop me a note! :) Also, feel free to follow me on tumblr for additional fangirling and random musings: http://gothamsiren99.tumblr.com/


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